Monday, March 22, 2010

Shabby Road

The equinox arrives, which means it’s time to write to Paul McCartney. Every year, I invite him to give a concert in the Congo; thus far he has always declined, citing prior engagements. What can I do to tempt the great tunesmith to the jungle this year? Free lessons on the Congolese nose-flute? A year’s supply of Jamba weed reefers? A brightly-plumed parrot that will sit on his shoulder and squawk the lyrics of Hey Jude? Maybe it’s impossible to tempt him with bribes because he’s worried about the reception he’ll get from the chimpanzees. Rumour has it that he used to snub Bubbles during his visits to Neverland. These things can weigh on the conscience of an artist.

Macca, let it be said, is a tremendous friend of the gorilla nation. During his last world tour, he insisted that only vegetarian meals were served to the workmen who put up the fixtures. When it was suggested to him that men who did heavy lifting needed to eat steaks, Paul pointed out that gorillas were plenty brawny on a meat-free diet. How right he was! It’s as easy as walnuts in a condom to acquire a muscular physique on fruit and vegetables. You just have to combine the wholesome fare with a rigorous exercise regime involving tree-climbing, chest-thumping and the spanking of recalcitrant baboons.

He might have also mentioned that eating meat gives you halitosis. Lions may look pretty feisty in wildlife documentaries, but most of their time is spent sprawled on the ground, panting out foul gases that would poison a dung beetle. Fresh vegetables, by contrast, only give you flatulence. In the words of Old Melonhead The Wise, “Tis better to fart like thunder than to have bad breath.”

Paul has recently been in the news for trying to save the famous studio near the famous zebra crossing which he famously walked across barefoot. Miserly EMI Records want to sell the property to a consortium planning to convert it into a plastic surgery clinic. “All you need is a nose job,” as John said to Ringo. I suppose Paul is reluctant to buy it himself after paying his ex-wife £24 million for three years of viper-tongued bliss. But maybe the real problem is excessive nostalgia. The Beatles are gone, and posing for a picture on a zebra crossing in London does nothing to honour their memory. For what great band ever wished to be remembered for disrupting the flow of traffic and increasing the blood pressure of motorists?

Forget about the zebra crossing. If Paul comes to Africa, we’ll give him a real live zebra instead. Ordinarily they’re truculent beasts, but if one of the Beatles is in the vicinity they lie on their backs and giggle like star-struck schoolgirls. Paul’s barefoot march across Abbey Road will seem like a trivial detail of history after he’s ridden bare-arsed on a galloping zebra, tanning his ageing butt-cheeks in the African sun. A picture of Macca mooning the baboons would make a far more exciting album cover than that over-hyped tiptoe on the tarmac.

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My letters to Paul often start with... 'Please don't marry yet another money-grubber. Their fingers multiply in moonlight.'

But I shall now add the remedy of his apparent spousal ailment: Visiting you! Plus, if he's getting a free zebra out of the deal, how can he refuse?
Spanking the baboons? One has to contemplate the Great Macca undertaking such an activity. Is Crossing the Zebra another euphemism?
I ran across this statement from an article in National Geographic recently: "...a recent study found DNA from monkeys and small forest antelopes called duikers in the feces of wild African western lowland gorillas in Loango National Park in Gabon. The discovery raises the possibility that gorillas might have a secret meat habit—scavenging or hunting discretely."

I wouldn't be surprised if Sir McCartney didn't send his valet out for some take-out Bangers and Mash on the Q.T. But I'm not overly enthusiastic about checking his feces to prove the point.
GB last night I watched a charming documentary about a 33 year old silverback named Titus. His chest thumping aroused feelings of lust in my virginal body and I wondered if you could post a photo of yourself doing the same.

For a friend of course.
During what season can i expect an invite GB?
How about photographing a herd of zebras walking over a road strewn with old Beatles LPs? Turner prize.
You impart the most fascinating of info, GB. I must say that I am now having fantasies of Macca mixed with zebras and nose jobs. Did he really cross the street barefoot?
Abbey Road (the album, not the road obviously) was originally going to be called Everest and The Beatles were expected to fly to Nepal to shoot the album cover photo.

However, at this stage in their career The Beatles found each other's company so unbearable they were not prepared to fly to Nepal together and they would only agree to be photographed in the street outside the recording studio.....which is why the album is called Abbey Road.

Maybe Macca won't play your concert in The Congo as he's scared of bumping into Ringo who would almost certainly pitch up to your event if invited.
In fact, "Ringo in the Congo" is a catchy little title for your annual event.....are you sure you've been inviting the right Beatle all these years?
Aw, poor Heather Mills. Nobody seems to like her anymore. She really gives gold diggers a bad name.
And boo hoo for Paul who did not have the sense to do a pre-nup.

Hmmm... why am I thinking about pancake nipples all of a sudden?
You should know that me and Tarfie feel you would make a great stand-up comic

I am wondering though if you are a beer drinker....
Zaedah: You'd be surprised what millionaire pop stars can refuse, Zaedah. I agree that a self-declared animal lover like Paul should jump on the chance of jumping on a zebra's back.

Madame Defarge: He doesn't have the experience to spank them, Madame D. A novice like Paul should start off by mooning them.

Robert: If he came here I'd find a way of getting a sample of his poop and having it analyzed. Unlike the gorilla he has no excuse for eating meat, given all the tasty vegetarian products his late wife lent her name to.

Nursemyra: It's the least I could do for you, Nursie, although I'd prefer to hand them over discreetly rather than via a public forum. We'll have to arrange a tryst.

Sabrina: You have an open invitation, Saby. I'll make a chair that's perfectly moulded to the shape of your butt.

Gadjo: It's shocking what what passes for art these days. I'd like to see a zebra walking across a zebra crossing.
Robyn: Indeed he did, Robyn. If you google 'Abbey Road' you'll find a picture of Paul flashing his naked tootsies. It may cause you to scream and put your hands on your head, which is the classic symptom of Beatlemania.

King of Scurf: I don't believe Paul is avoiding Ringo - he was the one Beatle who stayed on good terms with the others. Maybe someone told Paul that Yoko is here. Ringo would be welcome to come as long as he doesn't sing.

Donut girl: He shouldn't have married her even with a pre-nup. The woman is a scold. Have you seen her nipples?

Sabrina: How sweet of you and Tarf to discuss my career options, Saby. Would you like to have a beer with me?
I read a story about these Gorilas i some zoo which were fed Sprouts on a regular basis. Is this where the "tis better to fart like thunder" phrase comes from because I believe there were certain times where being within a mile of the Gorilla enclosure was totally unbearable?
My friend Robert Plant tells me that Mr. McCartney is most proud of his excellent Frog Song. Maybe he could do a Tree Frog version when he visits the Congo?
Where can I get a ticket??? Maybe Macca and friends could be great chorus girls. Zebras (sorry).
actually, having that crosswalk in front of a plastic surgery clinic might be a good idea. that way, as the people pause on the crosswalk to get their pictures taken, they'll have a chance to rethink the rat ass that they're about in inject into their foreheads. or whatever.

Ringo 4 EVER!
GB- I would be honored to have a beer or three with you any day. as to whether Sir Paul ever takes you up on your wonderful offer. Let me know I will book ticket's to watch.

He would have to be careful of stepping bare foot through that many Zebras crossing the plains all the time.
You ought to give Ringo Starr a try - he's much cheaper. Plus, he does Thomas the Tank Engine stories.
Rubbish: Yes, it's true, but what of it? A thousand farts in the open air will dissolve in the wind.

Mutley: I'll make him eat frogs if he dares to fob us off with that nonsense. He knows what his fans want.

Leni: It's by invitation only, Leni. You could ride the zebra after Paul's finished with it.

Kara: You can keep your forehead smooth by slapping it frequently, so there's no need for injections. If you pull your nose hard everyday it might look like Ringo's.

Tarf: I'll make sure the fridge is well stocked, Tarf. Bring your guitar as well.

UberGrumpy: Ringo may be cheaper, but if you pay peanuts you get monkeys.
God forbid Yoko Ono should ever get her hands on it she'd probably turn it into a Citroën car showroom. – All in order to, “Keep John's memory alive” of course…nothing to do with MONEY :P
Can't help but feel that Mr McCartney is a bit . . . venerable for todays generation of zebra.

I expect they'd prefer it if you invited The White Stripes.
It's a well known Beatles FACT that Paul didn't wear shoes because he couldn't afford them at the time. That's why he was suing the other three Beatles. If you look carefully at the photo you can read his lips saying, "Fuck you, John. And Yoko's a slag."
Cheyelle: Yes, she's a shrewd businesswoman beneath her potty exterior.

The Jules: It takes a long time for new bands to get a following over here. The Beatles weren't big until they'd split up.

Indie Pop: Have you ever tried walking around barefoot? It stimulates the nerve endings like you wouldn't believe.
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